Love Always Knows
by Traillbits
Summary: Christine, Raoul, and their daughter travel out of Paris to attend Madame Giry's funeral only to have an 'old friend' from the past come back to greet them once more. An alternate take on 'Love Never Dies' but with PotO references
1. Chapter 1

1891,

It was with a heavy heart that Christine was leaving Paris for a few days. Sad news reached her yesterday morning that Madame Giry, whom she considered to be a mother figure to Christine when she was a child, had passed away. The funeral wake was the following day, now resulting in the long train voyage followed by this afternoon's carriage ride to Marseille.

"Look over there mother!" The small girl in the carriage squealed in delight, pointing at a sailboat gliding away from the pier they passed.

"Angelique! Sit down, really you'll hurt yourself dear." Raoul scolded patiently

"Your father's right, you can still watch the boats sitting down." Christine smiled at the child's awe and wonder.

Angelique Charlotte was one of the most wonderful things to happen to Christine. It was unexpected to learn that she was pregnant, the suddenness of being thrown into motherhood frightened her at first. But the day she first held her tiny daughter in her arms, Christine's heart swelled with happiness.

It all seemed on the surface like the perfect image and life. Married to her childhood sweetheart and now a mother as well. But while Christine would never dare say such a thing, Angelique's existence seemed to be both a blessing and a curse. But it wasn't the child's fault.

The carriage finally stopped at the gate of Saint-Pierre cemetery. The weather was not bad per se, but cloud cover concealed the sun that morning. Raoul opened the carriage door, allowing the ladies to exit first.

Entering the gate with a creak, Christine saw a small gathering in the cemetery. As the family approached, a woman with blonde hair adorned in a grey dress turned.

"Christine!" A teary eyed Meg called. The brunette walk toward her friend, embracing in what had been ten years passed. The two women sobbed in each others arms.

"Oh Meg," Christine cried, "I am so sorry"

Pulling away Meg smiled sadly, wiping her tears away.

"It just means so much that you came." The blonde said, "Mother always loved you."

Meg finally took in the difference ten years made of her long distance friend.

"Life's been kind to you Christine, you look so radiant." Turning to Raoul she nodded, "And Monsieur le Vicomte so nice to see you as well."

"As am I Mademoiselle Giry, I only wish it were on happier circumstances," Raoul said, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

"And who is this?" Meg's eyes beamed curiously seeing a small girl hiding behind Christine

"Darling it's alright, Meg's an old friend of mine."

The child poked her head out from behind her mother.

"My name is Angelique De Chagny," She said.

"Aw! It's so nice to meet you Angelique," Meg's heart melted at the shy child who went back into hiding behind her mother's gown.

Meg could see Christine in Angelique. Though it was striking that while she had the same facial features, her hair-while like Christine was long and a mass of curls-was dark as night, a feature that neither of her parents had. Her eyes were where she strangely stood out. Curiously they were mismatched in colour, Angelique's left was brown, the other a crystal colour blue.

"Christine, it really does mean so much to me that you're here," Meg turned to her sadly. "May I ask you something?"

"Anything Meg," The brunette nodded.

"I understand if you can't, since you haven't done it for some time. But would you be willing to sing for the wake? Just once more for mother?" She asked hopefully.

"Oh I would be honoured Meg." Christine nodded, letting the blonde lead on toward where mournful visitors were gathered.

Unbeknown to the trio, they were being watched from afar.

Madame Giry's passing had hit an internal nerve with Erik. She was his watchful boxkeeper during the days at the Opera Populaire, and one of his few trustful confidants for years. He may have gone so far as to call her a friend. And without her, Erik wouldn't have established his own venue opera house here in Marseille.

Despite being the owner of his own opera house, Erik tried to physically stay out of the public eye. While the port city was a wide journey's distance from Paris, he did not want any old stories of the Phantom of the Opera resurfacing. And for years no one had come to suspect the elusive Mister Y of being the now long forgotten Opera Ghost. And Erik preferred to keep it this way. Since migrating, he had become accustom to wearing a full black mask whenever he left the opera house walls. His explanation for the mask if questioned being that he received a serious burn injury to his face in a factory accident. But inside the safe confides of the Sandolphon opera house, Erik had no issue or received inquiry wearing his more traditional porcelain half mask.

Erik was hidden behind one of the nearby mausoleums as a minister recited a prayer. It seemed only right to attend the service. He noticed Meg coming back, guiding another woman through the small crowd.

And as she turned, Erik's heart skipped a beat. Could it be? No, no his eyes must be playing a cruel trick on him.

"Christine?" He whispered.

 **-While Love Never Dies takes place in 1905, the musical Phantom of the Opera canonically is suppose to take place in 1881. As this is ten years later like LND the timeline has been changed to 1891 and not 1905.**

 **-As you read there is no Gustave in this. Or rather Angelique has replaced Gustave's role in the story. Also her middle name Charlotte being a pun on 'Little Lotte'.**

 **-Marseille is an actual place in France. To keep things similar to Love Never Dies, while this is set in France and not America, Marseille like Coney Island is a port city.**

 **-Sandalphon is in mythology an archangel known to rule over music in Heaven and help people use music to communicate with God from Earth. The opera house is fictional and does not exist in r/l.**


	2. Chapter 2

The remainder of the service was just as sombre as mourners left the service.

"That was beautiful Christine," Meg praised. "I know mother heard it."

"Thank you Meg, it was my pleasure." Christine said as they walked out of the cemetery and into the city's bustling street. "It's very beautiful here, Angelique couldn't stop watching all of the boats as we passed. Is that why you and Madame came here?"

"It is very pretty here but not exactly why we left Paris. After the Opera Populaire shut its doors we needed work elsewhere." Meg seemed to be calculating her word choice carefully. "There was an opera house on the verge of closing up here as well. But they had gotten new management and needed a dance instructor, maman was hired immediately!"

"That's wonderful news Meg!"

"Yes, he even let me perform with the other ballet girls, and now I'm getting to do my own acts!"

"The new owner you mean?"

Meg paused, "Yes, you um...Well that is to say you wouldn't know him, almost no one knows who he is."

"How odd," Christine said confused, "What's his name?"

"He... He goes by Mister Y, no one knows much else. At any rate I hate to seem rude but I should be getting home, I have rehearsals tomorrow morning that I need to prepare for."

"Of course, I'm sorry to keep you." Christine paused, "Meg, would you mind terribly if we came by tomorrow? I miss the opera so, and it would be so nice to catch up more on the lost time."

Meg was hesitant, "You're sure?"

"Yes! You're my best friend and I feel terrible that it's been so long. And I know it would be a treat for Angelique to see before our voyage home. "

"Well...alright then. We'll be rehearsing at eight thirty tomorrow, the Sandalphon opera house."

"Sounds wonderful!" Christine smiled absolutely delighted. Parting ways, Christine hailed a driver to take her to the inn the trio would be staying at. Raoul having already gone ahead with Angelique after the service, Christine entered the carriage alone. Arriving at the inn, she opened the door to their room, seeing Raoul seated in the sitting area.

"Hello dear," Christine smiled at her husband.

Raoul returned the smile, "Christine,"

"Where's Angelique?"

"She was dozing off so I put her to bed early."

Christine nodded,"It was an awfully long journey here wasn't it?"

"Yes,"

"Well I do have some news Raoul."

His hazel eyes glanced up at her, "Yes?"

"Meg told me she's performing for the Sandalphon opera house right here in Mersaile and said we could come see their rehearsal tomorrow. Won't that be fun darling?" Christine beamed.

"That's sounds splendid Christine." Raoul nodded "And I'm sure Angelique will love it as well, perhaps we can go to their performance if we're still here. It's been so long since I've been to the opera." The brunette said longingly. "I know, I'm sorry for that."

Christine frowned, sitting beside her husband. "Raoul, what's wrong?"

He heaved a heavy sigh, "I've denied you so much since we've been married Christine. I just feel like I've been a terrible husband to you."

Christine grasped his hands in hers, "Raoul stop talking like that. I love you and have never regretted our marriage. Dear, where is all of this coming from?"

"I don't know, I suppose seeing Meg and the thought of setting foot in another opera house just brings back some unpleasant memories."

She frowned, "That was a long time ago Raoul. It's all over now." Christine loved her husband to no end. But sometimes he would get into these moods. These episodes of depression weren't constant, but when they resurfaced it broke her heart to hear him sound so low. "If this bothers you so much we don't have to go tomorrow."

Raoul shook his head, "No. Please Christine. I'm sorry, I'd be selfish to refuse you. I know how much you miss the opera. I need to stop dwelling in the past." Placing her hand along his face, Christine leaned in to kiss him.

"I love you," She mumbled against his lips.

"And I love you Christine," Raoul said sincerely.

* * *

The De Chagny's walked through the doors of the opera house, once inside it could only be described as a feeling of wonder. The foyer was absolutely stunning, from the pristine spiral staircase to the finely painted murals that graced the walls.

Angelique's mouth was agape, "Maman! It's so beautiful!"

"Indeed it is darling!" Christine was just as mesmerised. It was as if they had just entered a palace, and music was the rular of this kingdom. Even while Raoul was not as musically inclined as his wife, the Vicomte was also bedazzled by the fine architecture.

Aside from the odd worker passing through, the trio were the only ones in the main hall, the opera empty save for those warming up for the next night's performance. The opera house was like a maze, incredibly spacious as though the rooms kept multiplying. Eventually the faint sounds of voices and music could be heard down a winding hallway.

The double doors revealed an enormous concert hall, hundreds of seats lined in red velvet lined the aisles. There were several private boxes in the wings of the hall, the exteriors hand carved with luscious designs depicting the Greek god Apollo.

On stage, the dancers twirled and gracefully danced. Unexpectedly one of the ballerinas lost her footing, toppling over taking two of the other girls with her.

"Girls! Girls please!" A surprisingly stern toned Meg called, coming on stage. Christine was stunned, aside from the youthful pulled up blonde hair, it was as if she were looking down at Madame Giry. "Now try again, and this time Josephine please be more careful and less clumsy!" The blonde commanded, the younger meek girls complying reforming their previous dance step.

"Meg!" Christine called, coming down the aisle, her voice echoing throughout the empty hall. The blonde turned her attention to see the family standing by the double doors.

"Christine! So nice that you came!" She said "Thank you for inviting us, I didn't know you would be instructing the ballet."

"I use to dance when mother and I first came here. But there was an accident, the opera house has been remodeled but much of the original foundation is old and a part of the stage buckled when we were performing one night. I can still walk but my leg suffered too much damage for me to dance again." Meg explained with a frown.

"Oh Meg I'm so sorry."

"But I can still sing, Mister Y has even given me leading arias to perform. I have one tomorrow night actually." Christine smiled,

"That's so nice. Honestly, seeing the ballerinas take me back to when we were them years ago." To both women they were fond warm memories, the two rehearsing with the other girls of the corps du ballet, the giggling gossip they would get into together, the nights the two best friends would sneak sweets whilst Madame Giry was unaware.

"What aria are you performing tomorrow?" Christine asked.

As the girls chattered away, Raoul and Angelique sat in one of the many empty aisles as the ballet rehearsal continued.

"They look so amazing papa, don't they?" The girl asked, her mismatch eyes beaming at every leap and twirl.

"Yes they do," Raoul nodded, "I remember when your mother use to dance."

Angelique smiled wide, "Papa did she really?"

The Vicomte felt a warm feeling come over him remembering the night he saw Christine first perform, "Oh yes, she also sang beautifully. We met when we were just a little older than you are now, but years later when we met again it was during an opera and she was the leading lady."

"Wow..." Angelique breathed, many nights she had heard her mother sing either to help her sleep or to no one in particular. But not once did the child think she had once sung for hundreds on stage. "I want to be just like her one day."

Raoul glanced down at her. She was still so young but Angelique was already showing signs of musical talent. When Christine would sing to her to sleep, often through the ajar door Raoul could hear them singing together, the sound was absolutely breathtaking. Then she had gotten her tiny hands on the sheet music by their piano, questioning what the music notes meant. Raoul agreed to hire for her a private tutor, but the rate that the child was learning was remarkable, even her tutor was taken back after just a few weeks into their lessons.

She was a budding prodigy. It was something any parent would be proud of, but for Raoul it filled him with a feeling of familiar dread. He wanted to be a proud father, but part of him felt terrified and uncertain.

So caught up and distracted in his troubled mind, the Vicomte failed to notice the child at his side slink down the aisle. The twirling ballerinas were beautiful to watch, but Angelique wanted to see more, explore this place further.

Her tiny feet clattered on the marble floor whilst exploring. Angelique hummed aloud, spinning around as she'd seen the dancers do. The day felt like a dream, Christine had shown her daughter the beauty of music growing up, and Angelique happily embraced it. Her mother had recounted with her a story that Angelique's grandfather told Christine when she was a little girl too. It was about an angel that would descend from the heavens to guide and show others the way through the angel's gift of music. The child's humming echoed through the spacious halls.

The sound rousing a curious listener.


	3. Chapter 3

It sounded so familiar to Erik's ears. He couldn't quite place it. His thoughts kept rushing back to the service yesterday. Christine, after so many long years. Time had only made her more beautiful, to his dismay he could see the Vicomte make his way through the gathered mourners to join her side. Erik had no claim on her, no matter how much he wanted her. Years ago when she kissed him, willing to marry the Opera Ghost to save her boy, he knew he had lost her forever when she made that choice. He wanted a willing and happy wife, not a prisoner.

And she did not love him back.

For nights his decision to let her go plagued him. The twisted voices in the recesses of his head conflicted with each other. One saying he did the right thing, putting what Christine wanted before Erik's own needs. But the other said he was foolish, that he had her in that moment that their lips met, and he should have kept her. He had awoken in the night screaming Christine's name, begging her to return.

But that was a long time ago. When she and the boy disappeared down the lake and back up to the surface, they were soon married. After that, Erik hadn't heard much about her after he fled Paris. Since then the nightmares subsided and the voices hushed. He could not see himself courting another woman-as if one could bare to love such a face-but he was well aware that Christine would never be his anymore. It seemed that The Phantom that obsessed over his angel night and day was no more.

The humming grew louder, the melody soothing and recognisable. Erik blinked in surprise.

 _"Angel of music, guide and guardian_

 _Grant to me your glory"_

"Christine?" Erik called into the emptiness. No one else knew that song. There was something different about this voice though. It was beautiful just as Christine's, but there was something else. But no mistake, not one other person could know that song.

 _"Angel of music, hide no longer_

 _Secret and strange angel"_

The harmony rang in Erik's ears, his legs trembled as he stalked toward the fading echo.

"Christine?!" The masked man called. Was she seeking him out? Or had he truly descended into madness?

But as Erik wheeled another corner he did not see see the brunette soprano. As his eyes darted about he failed to notice the twirling child bump into him from behind.

"Oof!" Angelique stumbled, losing her footing.

Realising she knocked into somebody, she stood back up, straightening down her dress.

"I'm sorry monsieur!" The girl said nervously,

Erik sighed, "It's quite alright child, I-"

He paused glancing down at her. Something in the girl's face looked familiar. And her eyes, it was like he were staring back into his own, he'd never seen eyes like them elsewhere.

"Monsieur?" Angelique asked.

"Oh! Yes. All is forgiven." Erik stammered.

The girl merely smiled back at him and ran off.

As perplexing as that moment was, Erik couldn't help but the deflating feeling of disappointment. He was sure he heard Christine singing, maybe he was finally going mad and just hearing things.

When Angelique returned to the concert hall, Christine and Raoul were watching rehearsals. Hearing the familiar pitter patter Christine turned.

"Angelique! Where have you been?" She questioned concerned, frantically running over to her.

"I wanted to go exploring, this place looks so lovely maman," The girl smiled.

The brunette sighed, "Well just make sure you tell me or your father where you're going before you run off."

"I'm sorry maman."

They stayed a little longer before departing, the daylight still shining and life very much alive in the city.

"Papa, can we go for a walk?" Angelique asked, grasping his hand in her tinier one.

Raoul smiled, "Of course, it's a very nice day out after all."

* * *

Often they would go for a stroll, but the port city Marseille was very different from the busy streets of Paris. The family took a walk through a nearby park overlooking the pier. Angelique watched the docking boats, hearing the sounds of seagulls as they flew passed.

"Did you enjoy the opera house dear?" Christine asked the child at her side.

"Oh yes maman! It was so wonderful," Angelique smiled with glee. "The dancers were so pretty."

"And you seem to have gone on a little adventure I saw." She teasingly scolded.

"Yes! There were beautiful sculptures and murals everywhere! And I saw a strange man today. I think he's a magician! He was very tall and he wore a mask."

Raoul's body tensed up.

"I'm sorry dear, what was that?" The Vicomte stuttered.

"Raoul please," Christine tried to calm her husband down. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence-"

The Vicomte stopped walking, now down on one knee in front of the child, his hands gently over her shoulders. "The man with the mask. What did it look like? What else did this man look like?"

"Raoul-"

"Christine please I need to!" Raoul said frantic.

The girl was confused by her father's erratic behaviour.

"It was a white mask, but only on part of his face. And he wore alot of dark clothes, and had short dark hair too. And-" Angelique paused, "Papa? What's wrong? Mama is papa ill?"

Angelique couldn't understand why her father seemed so frightened all of the sudden. As soon as the girl described the man she saw all of the colour seemed to drain from his face. And her mother's chocolate brown eyes widened with some sort of sense of worry.

"We need to go." Raoul said, standing he began pulling them back toward the street hurriedly.

"But Papa!" Angelique frowned, having fun on their afternoon walk. But her father already let go of her hand and ran out to hail a carriage.

"Driver!" He called

Christine still had hold on Angelique's hand, "Maman, what's wrong with Papa?"

"Don't worry darling, it'll be ok. I'm going to talk with him tonight."

"Did I do something wrong?" The girl frowned, "I thought we were having fun."

"Oh no no it isn't you at all. Don't you worry." Christine paused. "I'll make sure this is all sorted out."

* * *

"Here! Of all the cities in France that monster is alive and here!" Raoul exclaimed once night fell at the inn. Angelique tucked into bed, Raoul was more on edge than ever since they left the park that afternoon.

"Raoul! Not so loud. Now listen, we don't know if it's really him-"

"A white half mask? How many other men just walk around with a mask on their face?!"

"It could have been a performer at the opera house."

"And an opera house of course! Just think about it Christine. The Sandalphon Opera House? Don't you remember your father's stories about the Angel of Music Sandalphon? My God, how could we not see it sooner. I thought he was long dead!"

"Please sweetheart, look at me." Christine halted Raoul's pacing, bringing her hands up to caress his face. "We don't know for certain. And even if by chance it is him, who's to say he knows we're here? We only came here for the funeral after all, we'll be heading back to Paris in just a few days."

Raoul sighed into her gentle touch, "I wish we could leave tonight. I don't want to risk losing you again. Either of you."

He glanced at the closed door where Angelique slept.

"What if he knows of her? I can't bare the thought of letting something happen."

Christine shook her head, "Raoul, everything will be alright. I swear to you it will. At any rate you should get some sleep. You look dreadful darling."

After much reassurance, Raoul finally gave in and retired for the evening. But when Christine followed her husband to bed, she feigned tiredness until she was sure Raoul was asleep. Carefully she pulled the covers off herself and changed hurriedly.

There was something she needed to do. Christine had to be absolutely sure.


	4. Chapter 4

**I appreciate feedback, please R &R if you can spare a few minutes :)**

The opera house was just getting ready to close up for the evening. Patrons departing into the street to awaiting carriages and performers retiring for the evening. In the sea of goers no one so much as glanced as Christine slipped inside, blending in with the crowd.

She waited patiently in a corridor, staying out of sight. She hid until she was sure the doors were locked up for the night and everyone had gone, the lights dying out.

Even if it were him, she had no guarantee he was even here. But it was a hunch Christine was going by. Even if they weren't in Paris anymore, the Phantom was still a wanted man after the first and last performance of Don Juan. The Gendarme were immediately in pursuit of him after that, but turned up with nothing. Surely even years on he wouldn't risk residing outside a safe haven like this.

Her heels echoed as they clacked on the floor. With the lights out it was difficult to navigate the opera house even more than during the day. Entering the spacious and now silent auditorium she rose up onto the stage, tripping several times before she found proper footing. She wished she could have some light, only able to squint to see the faintest thing in the darkness. But this would have to do.

Clearing her throat, she let the music echo throughout the empty auditorium.

 _Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_

 _Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

 _Silently the senses abandon their defences_

The song brought back memories, but it was not a forgotten melody to Christine. Quite often she sang it to Angelique, the child oblivious to the song's origins. But it always seemed to lull the child to sleep when she had night terrors.

She continued to sing, hoping for some sort of futile sign.

 _Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour_

 _Grasp it, sense it tremulous and tender_

 _Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

 _Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light_

Seeing and hearing no response, the brunette sighed. This was a far fetched idea, had she hoped it would work?

She turned away only to whip back around, Christine's heart skipped a beat when she heard the click clack of footsteps.

 _And listen to the music of the night_ A familiar male voice sang from the darkness.

The brunette's eyes wide and her mouth agape, could it be?

"Christine," Erik said, his smooth tenor echoed through the auditorium.

"It really is you," Christine whispered, as he walked closer to where she stood. Now just meters apart, Erik looked up at her from below the stage.

"One moment," He said, She heard the sound of more footsteps and then nothing. A few moments later, Christine turned around seeing a flicker of light come alive. It seemed Sandalphon had also adapted to new electric lighting system.

She heard footsteps again, and could now fully see the ghost from her past as Erik stepped out from behind the curtain. He looked just the same as he had ten years before.

"Is this a dream Christine?" He asked, shaking his head. "You can't be here. You can't."

"But I am,"

Hesitantly he reached over, Erik grasped her tiny hand in his. Christine noted the gold banded ring, with a stone dark as midnight on his finger. He still wore the ring he'd offered her years before. Slowly, his mismatch eyes never leaving hers, Erik placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

"It is a pleasure to see you," Erik said releasing her hand.

"I should have known that you'd be here, I should have known it all along. This whole arrangement bears your stamp. You're in each measure of that song." Raoul was right, the mysterious Mr. Y and the Phantom were one and the same. And he was here, healthy and alive after ten years had passed them by.

"But Christine, I can't help but wonder why you've come seeking me out."

"I needed to know it was you. Ang-" Christine paused with her words. "I mean...at the service Raoul had thought he'd seen you."

Presently, he seemed to be no threat to her, but she had made that mistake before. For now there were certain things she didn't want him to know.

At the mention of her husband, Erik gave a condescending snort.

"And pray tell how is the Vicomte?" Erik glared.

"He's fine," Christine said drily. "Please don't be like this. I came out here in the dead of night to see you."

"And I take it your husband is unaware of your nightly adventure?"

Christine glanced away, her guilty expression confirmation.

"Well my dear, now that you know I'm alive and well what do you plan to do next? Call the authorities and turn in the Phantom once and for all?"

Christine shook her head, "No! I could never do that to you. You were my tutor, my angel."

Erik felt a lump in his throat hearing her say this.

"You don't need to call me that, we both know I am no angel Christine." He exhaled.

"Erik..."

He grimaced hearing his name spoken aloud, even from such graced lips as Christine's.

"I'm sure you'll be heading back to Paris soon. And before you say another word, my intention is not to stop you Christine. That's why you've come isn't it? To see if I will try and steal you away again? I assure you mon ange, as much as I wish for nothing more than you, I know this cannot be." He explained.

"I have your word? If you do still have these feelings for me, you won't do my family harm whilst we're here?" Christine asked.

Erik looked taken back, "Do you think me such a monster that I would harm a hair on your head? I'd sooner hang myself than do such a thing!"

But he paused.

"Did you say family?" He asked.

Christine stammered, she hadn't meant to let that detail slip. Now there was no avoiding it.

"Yes, I have a child. She's here with Raoul and myself." The brunette admitted.

"I see." Erik turned away, but she could practically hear the scowl he wore based on his tone. "Well, I can assure you that you, the Vicomte...and the child are safe during your stay in the city. Now, if that will be all?"

Christine blinked at the Phantom's cool detachment. "That's it?"

"What more is there? After ten years I've come to realise you don't love me as I love you."

"Love..." Christine looked up, "You do still?"

"No one could ever replace you Christine." Erik chuckled sadly. "Not that any woman would ever wish to have me. Even if it was only for a short while, I felt wanted, loved by you. You remember, don't you?"

Christine couldn't forget, some nights she was even glad to have the memories she did of those days below.

"You should go Christine," Erik sighed. "You being here isn't doing any good for either of us except for satisfying your curiousity."

She nodded. But before stopping herself she felt herself fling forward, putting her arms around the masked man. Erik was frozen in place, starled by the sudden hug.

"Despite what you've done," Christine whispered, "I missed you."

Erik exhaled, slowly putting his arms around Christine, "Not one day has passed that I haven't thought of you."

Pulling away, Erik silently watched Christine descend down off the stage and out the double doors.

A sad smile graced his face, Christine long since left the opera house and back out onto the quiet street.

"Why do I have a feeling our paths will cross again, my angel?" Erik said aloud before snuffing out the light.


	5. Chapter 5

-Ten years ago, 1881-

Five cellars below the Opera Populaire

Christine awoke to the gentle jingle tune and cymbal chimes. Looking up she stared back at a music box, shaped like a monkey adorned in Persian robes.

 _I remember there was mist, swirling mist across a vast glassy lake_

She realised glancing around, she was in a bedroom. But not her own room, in her small flat it was a tiny room with only a few valued pieces she had come to own. This room was fit for a queen.

The bed she laid upon was cushioned and warm, her slumber felt light floating upon a cloud. The walls were draped in layers of velvet, the furniture was lavish and articulate in design. Christine could see a shelving of several shoes, all of them beautiful with beading and varying colours. On the vanity were more trinkets, they made Christine think of all the times she'd walked passed the jewellers. Jewelled necklaces, and pearl earrings lined with gold costing more francs than she could earn within a years work.

Picking up a mirror that sat upon the vanity she turned it over to see the name inscribed in the back.

'Christine'

The brunette blinked, 'Is this all for me?'

There must be some sort of mistake. She was no Vicomtress or queen, she didn't deserve such lavish things as these. Perhaps she ought to seek out her host for more answers.

She opened the door, glancing around through the darkness. She followed the music, as she approached the music boomed ominous and powerful.

The darkness seemed to melt away as she was met by several lit candelabras within a spacious room, passed it she could make out the lake, tied down at the grotto was a gondola.

 _There were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat_

Looking up to where a large pipe organ was perched on a landing. At the heart of the instrument sat a figure. Their back was to her, Christine crept closer. The figure wore an evening robe made up of blues and golds. She wondered if he had just awoken or perhaps been playing all throughout the night as she slept.

 _"And in the boat there was a man_ "

Hearing her voice, he turned. Christine's breath caught in her throat. So it was no dream. Her angel, the phantom. Both one in the same, were a flesh and blood man, the man seated before her.

"Christine," He spoke, standing fully. "I hope you had a restful sleep?"

"I did, monsieur." She nodded, her voice small and unsure.

She cautiously stepped back as he did forward. Seeing her alarm, the Phantom held up a hand.

"I shall not harm you Christine, you have nothing to fear. Please do not shun me."

"It's your voice I've been hearing," It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, forgive me for my deceit. I am your teacher, but not an angel."

Christine shook her head, "What am I to call upon you as?"

"I am Erik, no angel or ghost. Just Erik."

Her thoughts swirled taking in all of this new information. That voice for three years she so wholeheartedly believed was one beyond this realm belonged to an earthbound man.

"I'm...I don't know..." She mumbled, Christine feeling a wave of dizzyness. But a strong arm steadied her, Erik coming to her aid before she fell over.

"Please sit down my dear," Erik coaxed her letting her lean upon him, steering her over to a throne like chair situated upon the center of the room.

Christine collected her thoughts, steadying herself sitting up in the chair.

"Why am I here, Monsieur Erik?" She asked as he knelt in front of her.

'Because I love you,' Erik thought but did not dare say.

Instead, clearing his throat he said, "For music. Christine, my dear protege. I need your voice to soar, to sing my music."

"Was that yours I heard just now?" The brunette asked, indicating to the open scattered parchments of sheet music by the pipe organ.

"It was, it is my life's work. Do you like it?"

Christine nodded, clasping her hands together. The music had a frightening air about it, but still it was not unpleasant to the ear.

"But, while your hospitality is quite kind. Surely people will be worried about my disappearance," Christine said, "I must go back and inform everyone I am alright."

The Phantom chuckled. "I have taken liberty of easing this burden for you. They are all informed that you are quite safe. They should be opening my letters right about now."

"But monsieur I-"

His mismatch eyes contorting with worry, he hastily grasped her hands in his. Christine shivered at the ice cold touch.

"Please Christine. I shall return you. But all I ask is a few days." Erik seemed to plead desperately, "My music needs a voice, it needs your voice. Allow your teacher this one favour Christine?"

While she was somewhat frightened, this all happening so fast. Christine also felt her angel's words were sincere. The air he held about him, this man's soul belonged to music and craved it. If he meant her no harm, what would a few days do? He was her trusting teacher for so many years, surely she could trust him.

"Just a few days?" Christine questioned.

"That is all I ask,"

Hesitantly she nodded, "Very well. I must assume you've taken care of my absence in these few days as well?"

"I have, your career is secure Christine. This will not effect it in any way I've made good on this."

Christine smiled, "Alright. If it is music you seek Monsieur, where shall we start?"

For three days and three nights she spent in the Phantom's company. In the time she stayed at his house on the lake she explored and learned so much about her maestro.

His home was filled with fine works of art and antiquities, domestic and foreign in origin. The furniture in his parlour room was lavish just like the ones in what had become her bedroom. Erik had a library consisting of several books. Some fictitious tales, others various scores of past composers, Christine found some were written in a language she did not recognise. Noticing her curiosity he informed her they were Persian, and while he didn't give many details, he did tell her how he had ventured to this foreign land several years ago.

The Siamese that Erik held dear in his home didn't seem to like her very much. The feline didn't seem keen on sharing her masked master's attention with anyone. The brunette took care to avoid Ayesha when she could.

When Christine was not exploring she sang.

While she and Erik's lessons continued down below, so to did the blossoming of more music. It was quite obvious she was a muse for him, an inspiration breathing life into the Phantom's music. Several times she had seen Erik shudder in shaken pleasure as she sang, her voice mesmerising him like that of a siren's call to a sailor at sea.

Christine liked to think she was an intelligent woman. And despite only having been in his company, by the fourth morning she knew very well why Erik truly craved her presence. While the masked man did not lie, their sessions were reflected upon in the score he wrote in between lessons. She knew there was a deeper reason as to why he asked her down here.

On the fourth night she confronted him about it.

"How long have you had that room for?" Christine asked as Erik was gathering up parchment.

His mismatch eyes turned to hers. "I beg your pardon?" He asked quizzically

"My name is engraved on several items in my room. How long have you had it made out for me? Surely you couldn't have done it in a single evening."

Glancing away, Erik's hands holding the paper trembled.

"And the mannequin, the lady in the mirror from the night you brought me here. She has a striking resemblance to me." Standing from the chair she sat at, Christine put a gentle palm on the Phantom's hunched over back. His muscles contorted at the physical contact, she could hear him attempt to hide a shaky sigh.

"Is music all you really sought out when you carried me down here?" She asked.

Erik looked up at her, bringing his head up, they were only inches apart now.

"I cannot lie to you, not again." He confessed. "There is more than music, but I've not said anything about it. Well, my dear, I never imagined you would feel the way I do for you. The... the love I feel for you."

This confession in ways frightened Christine, while she had known her angel over the course of three years, she had only known him as a man for a few days. But could she really call them separate beings by this point? It may have been a facade, but in those years he had touched and infiltrated her soul with music.

Perhaps now her soul was being touched by love.

At least this is what Christine perceived this must be when her face drew closer still until their lips met. His were full and bloated, a malformation of sorts, but felt warm and inviting pressed against her own.

-Present-

Sandalphon had since shut its doors for the evening. Erik enjoyed the solitude. While the sudden encounter with Christine had stirred a want for human companionship once more, he would push aside these mixed emotions. He was keeping his word, and refused to interfere. He let her go so that she could be happy, even if the masked man despised the Vicomte, he would not become the reason for his angel's despair again. It was also for her own safety that he stay away. If he pursued her, he may not be able to stop himself a second time.

Erik walked through the empty foyer up to his chambers, high above in the spacious opera house-Erik had some comfort with the luxury to live above ground.

Turning into a corridor the masked man was sure he had heard something. Not thinking much of it he continued upstairs. But as he settled himself out to focus on his work, an alarm went off. He had several set up in the opera house should vandals come knocking after hours. While he was not prone to impulsive violence as he was years before, he still had the capability to kill should he need to.

It had seemed that in the main auditorium one of his alarms was tripped as a bell continued to ring in his private chambers.

With a sigh, the composer got up and through a secret passage-one of many he included in the redesign of the opera house-Erik entered the empty theatre hall. Over the years Erik had had little incidents with intruders, and was therefore showing next to no concern as to whom it could be.

What he hadn't expected was to hear crying.

Silent in his footsteps, Erik crept toward the whimpers, it sounded like a child. While there were street children whom had no place to call home, it was plausible one of the urchins had managed to sneak in seeking shelter on a cold night.

But when he found a child seated in one of the aisle seats, she did not appear to belong to poverty. The girl was dressed eloquently in what looked like expensive clothing, and her dark curls that cascaded down her head were well kept and groomed.

Slowly, Erik placed a palm on her shoulder, the girl immediately tensed up realising she wasn't alone.

Looking up at him-as she was crying into her palms-Erik saw those eyes again. It was the girl he saw dancing the other day in his halls. While red rimmed from tears, he could never forget those eyes.

"Child, what are you doing here? Why do you cry?" Erik asked, while not being very experienced with children his tone was neutral and soft.

The girl sniffled. "It feels safe and nice here. The music I heard here was so pretty. I'm sorry monsieur! I didn't know where to go. Mama and papa were fighting."

"I see," Erik nodded, "And where are your parents, they must be quite worried for you?"

"I ran away. They were fighting, I think it was about me. I did something bad to make them angry."

The girl burst into more tears, her cries filling the entire auditorium as they bounced off the walls.

Picking her up the masked man attempted to coax the child.

"Shh now don't cry. Shh hush now, no more of that." Being as patient as he could Erik began to hum.

As he did, the girl's cries subsided to a whimper. She still wept, tears staining his shirt, but her cries faded. Erik felt the child's arms around his neck, hugging him tight as he carried her out.

"That's a good girl," Erik said, as the sounds of sadness faded into hiccuping sniffles. "You should go home child."

"Please monsieur, I cannot alone."

"Well now how did you get here if not alone?"

"It wasn't dark, not this dark."

Erik sighed, resigning himself to one option. "And there's no carriages available to take you at this hour. I will escort you then, but you must tell me where your mama and papa are then."

 **So as read in the flashback portion of this chapter, my Erik is a mismatch mesh of several adapatations. While the Phantom's physicality is primarily based on ALW!Erik from the stage show. But Ayesha is also present, a reference to Susan Kay's "Phantom" novel. The Phantom's lair in the musical I've reintegrated into the house on the lake that Erik from the original Gaston Leroux novel has as well.**

 **Also a notable change. Yes Christine waking up in the Phantom's lair is following with 'I Remember' but here takes place over the course of a few days rather than the next morning following with "Stranger Than You Dreamt It" in the musical.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Just a heads up that while this is a T rated story this chapter contains some sexual content. It is not by any means smutty or I would move this to an M rating but be aware this chapter does contain a small amount of mature content.**

 **Also thank you kindly to those who have been reviewing!**

"This is the place?" Erik asked, somewhat confused as the girl led him to an inn.

"Oui monsieur," She nodded. Having calmed down on the journey there, still in his arms she yawned.

'Good timing I suppose,' Erik thought to himself. He did not enjoy leaving the opera house without his full mask on, but given the late hour there were few people out tonight. Tipping his fedora low enough barely any passerby would notice the white porcelain he wore over half his face.

Being given the appropriate room he made his way up the stairwell. Just outside the door he knocked, not realising who would be on the other side of the door.

"About time!" Erik heard on the other side, the doorknob turning. His good brow raised at the familiarity of this voice. "We've been anxious for hours! Tell me you've found her-"

Mismatch coloured eyes met hazel as the two men glared at each other.

"YOU?!" Raoul and Erik shouted at each other in unison.

"Darling? What's going-" Christine asked, coming to the door and realised why her husband was suddenly so riled up.

"Unhand my daughter. Now." Raoul said through gritted teeth.

"Your daughter?" Erik asked, glancing down at Angelique, whom had since fallen asleep in his arms.

"If you've laid so much as a hand on her I swear I will-" The Vicomte's eyes wild with rage.

"Raoul! Please." Christine begged. "She looks well and also exhausted. Please don't wake her."

Gesturing with outstretched arms, Christine moved past her husband and took Angelique into her arms as Erik gestured for her to take the child.

"I want an explanation for this!" Raoul demanded.

"Shh! Please!" Christine scowled, indicating to Angelique. "I'm going to put her to bed. Please do try not to kill one another as I do so. BOTH of you."

While slightly surprised by Christine's sudden authoritative tone, the men complied and simply shot daggers at each other with their eyes.

Angelique stirred as Christine set her down on the bed.

"Maman?" The girl sleepily asked.

"Yes darling I'm here."

"Are you and papa angry at me?"

Caressing her dark curls, Christine shook her head. "Never sweetheart. We could never be upset with you. We were so scared when we saw you were gone darling!"

"What happened to the man in the mask?"

"Oh. Well, he had to go you see."

Angelique smiled, closing her eyes. "He's a nice man, he sang me the song like you do."

Christine smiled, "He's the one that sang it to me."

"Is..." Yawning again, Angelique leaned her head into the pillow, "Is he your friend?"

"I guess you could say he is. Off to bed Angelique, it's too far past your bedtime for all of these questions. We'll talk about this more tomorrow."

Closing the bedroom door, Christine rejoined the two men, Raoul now seated and Erik still standing with his arms crossed. The twinge of fear that she would return to the two strangling each other subsided.

"Maybe now you can explain why you had our child in your arms tonight?" Raoul sneered, "I should have known you'd come back to haunt us one day. Just as phantoms do."

"Raoul just-"

"Stop defending him Christine!" He exclaimed.

"Don't take that tone with her Vicomte," Erik growled. "I don't need a lasso to kill you boy."

"Both of you enough!" Christine stomped, startling both of them. "You each want answers. Fine, but can we not do this like civil adults?"

Raoul released a hard sigh, "Fine then, I'll be civil. Him I can't speak for."

"I know very well how to behave Christine. I apologize my dear." Erik said calmly, ignoring the Vicomte.

Christine began in asking Erik about his encounter with Angelique.

"Obviously I had no idea who her parents were." Erik explained. "I found her sobbing in my auditorium, never mind how she even managed to get in. And there was no available means to send her on her way by herself, so I took it upon myself. Do you think I enjoy leaving my home to escort lost children?"

"Come off it," Raoul glared at the masked man, "You won't take her from us. You planned all of this somehow."

With a confused scowl Erik shook his head. "What on earth would I want with your daughter exactly? Correct me if I'm wrong monsieur, but I was the one returning her to you."

"You mean you don't know?" The Vicomte asked, turning over at Christine. "All these years I've been terrified of this night and he didn't even know in the first place?"

Christine shook her head, "When would he have known? How could I say something about it when I thought he was dead?"

"When would I have known what?" Erik asked, becoming thoroughly annoyed and impatient with this one sided conversation.

Christine cleared her throat, "Erik..."

"Christine, you don't have to say anything." Raoul shook his head. "Please"

"He has a right to know. He's already seen her, he's going to figure out eventually."

Her gaze fell on Erik's.

"You..." She began. "You remember the nights we shared in your home under the opera house? Before I unmasked you."

A hand protectively going up to the porcelain concealing half his face, Erik nodded. His appearance as always being a tender nerve.

"Ten years ago, after you let us go I gave birth to Angelique a few short months after that. But the doctor told us there was no possible way she could have properly been born at that time unless she were conceived in the summer. The summer you brought me down to the house on the lake."

The realisation of what she was saying hit Erik like a splash of ice water down his back.

"Erik..." Christine stood in front of the masked man, "She is ten years old."

-1881-

Erik's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, absolutely frozen as she kissed him. His hands while not flailing twitched and trembled uncontrollably. Never before had he ever received a kiss-not even from his own mother-and especially had he never received one filled with such passion or dare he say desire.

He waited for her to pull away in repulse of her actions, that she made a mistake, but it never came. If anything, the girl craved more, craning her head and continuing to grace those pillowy lips with kisses.

The shock seemed to melt away, Erik's mismatch eyes falling closed leaning closer to the brunette. His once trembling hands went around her waist, Christine shimmied herself slightly to allow her arms to weave more comfortably around his neck.

"My angel..." The masked man mumbled against her petit lips before claiming her mouth once more.

Christine could feel a warmth seeping in her belly, and remembered gossip she'd heard among the older girls in the ballet. The passion, the need and desire, the heat they spoke of. All of this Christine could feel begin to stir and awaken in this moment.

The only thing that distracted her in this heated haze was the porcelain mask he wore, the cool material scraping against her cheek.

But reaching up to grasp the edge, she felt a palm immediately over hers.

"I'd rather you not Christine," Erik gasped, the fantasy fading away as he returned to reality.

"Why not?" Christine asked, more from curiosity than offence.

"I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't. We shouldn't have. I can't let you see." He seemed to babble in a panic.

Christine chewed on her lower lip, the fire ignited and burning in her craved more of the affection they had just shared. She wanted to know why he hid his face from her so, why such reluctance? But these questions were overpowered by the need she felt.

Feeling bold she asked, "What if you took it off and I couldn't see? We could turn out the lights, go someplace darker? It just hurts when I try to kiss you."

She leaned up to kiss him again. He pulled back just as their lips grazed each others.

"Christine, I'm afraid if we continue. If we do, I may not be able to hold myself back much longer." Erik said with warning. This was no sinister threat, he meant no malice or harm. But the spur of love and passion he felt welling inside him was a fire that he would not be able to extinguish if they went further from here.

But no louder than a whisper, Christine leaned up onto the tips of her toes up to his ear. Erik shuddered at the feeling of her warm, gentle breath against his ear.

"I don't want you to hold back anymore," The brunette herself was almost surprised at how wanton her tone was, just as Erik seemed to be upon the gasp she heard him emit.

The floodgates completely giving way, Erik let himself succumb. A hand around the girl's waist and the other around the back of her head, the masked man claimed her lips to his. His fingers intertwined through her mass of chestnut coloured curls, his kisses more ravenous and hungry hearing the melodic moan escape her throat.

He would allow her request to remove the mask and found themselves in the Louis Phillipe room. Neither knew whom had pulled whom towards the room but it was done. The room was immersed in darkness, the light of the oil lamps extinguished and non existent. Erik had no trouble seeing within the black mass, Christine's eyes however could not adjust as well as his could. In a quick gesture, so as she would barely noticed, Erik set his mask on the table adjacent, and continued to ravage her mouth with kisses free of any restraint.

The two figures sank into the cushioned sheets, Erik's hands wandered, exploring up along her bodice. Christine couldn't help the sharp intake of breath feeling his palm linger along her clothed breast, a wild side of her psyche aching for his hands to caress bare flesh.

Erik seemed to understand this desire when she guided his hand further along to trail around it. Leaning his forehead against hers, both of them shaky as if out of breath. His hands moved up along the buttons securing the back of her dress.

"May I?"

Christine felt her words caught in her throat, while unable to speak she nodded knowing he would see it. Unfastening the buttons one at a time, the brunette reached up to unfasten his bowtie and soon after peeling away the tailcoat jacket.

She couldn't see him, only just barely able to make out his slender frame, but unable to see his face at all. His touch set her ablaze with want and need.

She was undressed down to only her chemise, but Christine was the one sitting up to remove the thin garment. Erik's eyes were hungry with desire looking upon his angel, completely exposed and willingly succumb. The brunette had already made short work of his shirt and undoing the belt around his waist. Feeling brave enough to do so, Erik slipped out of his trousers and at last the two were intertwined, bare flesh on flesh.

While the masked recluse had not the privilege to indulge in the joys of the flesh, he was certainly not a novice to the action. But it was one thing to read books about the practice than it was to perform them.

He was rather clumsy at the start, and his stone heart trembled hearing his angel cry so. From what he was to understand, it usually hurt for a woman to be taken. But while Christine was pain stricken at the beginning, the pleasure seeping through her numbed the initial pain. The whimpering cry turned into a moan of ecstasy.

Applying a little more and more pressure, Erik's hips rocked them back and forth. They both were panting and feeling nearer to the precipice. It was when they shared a last and fiercely passionate kiss that Christine felt herself let go. Even in the darkness Christine could see shimmering stars reaching her climax. Erik let a low groan escape his throat feeling himself seep into her. Pulling apart from each other, they rolled back on the bed together. Both were drenched in sweat and short on breath they now heavily craved. It hardly surprised Erik that Christine fell into sleep so suddenly, the poor dear was exhausted.

It wasn't until the next morning when Christine awoke that she realized the other side of the bed was cold, lacking the companion she presumed she had slumbered with the night before. She was feeling giddy, albeit excited. Surely this must be love, truly. She had given herself to her angel and her heart sang with glee.

Putting her chemise back on over her head, Christine tiptoed out of the still dark room, finding the handle and making her way down to the parlour.

Erik was fully clothed, as if nothing had happened-surely she hadn't dreamt all of that. He was composing again on the monstrous instrument, a quill in his hand.

Studying his features-his eyes concentrated solely on his music-her gaze hovered over that mask. Erik was so reluctant for her to take it off and see him bare without it. Surely now, there were to be no secrets between them? What harm could it do really? But he would not be swayed to simply remove it if asked.

 _Who was that shape in the shadows?_

 _Whose is that face in the mask?_

But her quick hand removing his mask while he remained unaware was the beginning of their relationships downfall. In that moment as he shouted and cursed her for her actions, things were about to drastically change for master and pupil from that point on. The memories haunting her mind with the fear of his sudden fury and the recoil at the sight of his twisted and deformed face.

-Present-

Christine could hardly believe when she was told of the pregnancy. She had barely gained much additional weight in those months, and the back pain she experienced she associated with her dancing practices. And with the added stress of the Phantom forcing his opera on them all, not once had Christine had time to think that she being with child was ever a possibility. The night they shared together was distant in the back of her mind, too focused on Raoul's plan to catch the Phantom on Don Juan Triumphant's opening night.

When she was finally in the process of giving birth she and Raoul were originally thrilled, newly married and with a baby on the way. A new family, it seemed to be the perfect life. But the doctor told them otherwise.

She and Raoul had only consummated their marriage four months prior to Angelique's birth, the doctor informed the newlyweds that babies needed to be carried for nine months. While he explained there were rare exceptions to this, but most premature births were stillborn and did not survive or turn out healthy. This lead the physician to ask if she had shared her bed with anyone prior to their wedding night.

She only knew of one other, and so Christine had no choice but to tell Raoul.

And at this moment Erik wore the same startled expression her husband had that night.

 **So this chapter was the 'Beneath a Moonless Sky' of the story, but rather than taking place the night before Christine and Raoul's wedding takes place during the events of Phantom after 'Music of the Night' but before 'Stranger Than You Dreamt It'. As the story fast forwards 6 months later by Act II of Poto this would mean by the end of the original story Christine in this case would be 6 months out of 9 along in her pregnancy. While obviously most pregnancies have physical signs, some births even today can happen with next to no symptoms. Some women have given birth lacking a large belly or not experiencing morning sickness or back pain which for the sake of this story is Christine's case.**


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